


You're the smoke in by lungs

by J0ford



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Dean in Denial, Fluff, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Sam Ships It, Slow Burn, clueless Cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 12:54:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11380608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J0ford/pseuds/J0ford
Summary: Dean knows how he feels about Cas - but he'll be damned if he admits it.He thinks he's no good for him and tries to drown out his feelings at any cost, no matter how destructive they may be. Why would he fuck up the home he's building with Anna?So sure in his own head that all he'll ever have is hook-ups and sparks that never ignite, he's not prepared for just how angry Cas is when Dean stumbles home drunk and bloody.He's not prepared for Cas to kiss him back.





	You're the smoke in by lungs

**Author's Note:**

> in which Dean is sad and Cas just need to know why

Dean didn’t like this feeling. The powerlessness Castiel brought out in him is not something he ever wanted to get used to. He’d always been so laid back, except maybe when it came to Sam. He took everything in his stride, with a joke and a smirk and would punch anything that he couldn’t overcome – but he couldn’t punch Cas. No, the man was so damned confusing he couldn’t even behave like himself. Yeah Dean’s irrational and strong minded sometimes, but he could trust his gut and that was always something he relied on. Now he found himself lying awake at night, hearing the soft snores of the man that plagued him with insomnia laying just meters from him. And something about Dean you should know – he needs his beauty sleep.

Angrily he shoved the covers away from his slightly too warm body and nervously pulled at the chain that never left his neck. He’d never properly started up a smoking habit but here he was pulling out a twenty pack of Marlboro just to give his hands something to do other than comb through his hair or punch things in frustration. He didn’t know how to begin sorting through his head; it was Cas after all. He’d never been simple but living together on the road had changed everything. He found his eyes trailing after him in conversations, the need for his presence growing stronger all the time.

The flame of his cheap, gas station lighter singed the fine hairs on his nose as he inhaled the toxins – desperate not to think. Because even if he could admit it to himself after years of desperately avoiding it, Cas had a girl back home. A place to call home.

And Dean had nothing.

He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, yawn bubbling deep in his throat. Ash drifted to the ground of the small balcony that led out from the motel bedroom he shared with Cas and Sam. The cigarette glowed in the dark as sirens raced past and the wind chilled his shirtless form. He smelt rain in the air, earthy and thick but all he could think about was Cas.

Dean ran the flame of the lighter across the back of his hand, enough to feel the heat but not enough to burn.

Fuck it, he thought. I’m going to the bar.

*

Tequila probably wasn’t the best cure for his problem, but Dean would be damned if he didn’t give it his very best shot.

And in shots, he was on his ninth and the warmth of the alcohol was starting to outweigh the sick lump in his throat. There was the low crackly hum of music coming from overhead and the finishing notes of sweet child of mine were just coming into earshot. While normally Dean would sing or whistle along, he merely gestured for another shot, the last one not working quick enough. Even when he began swaying in his chair, he didn’t stop, the silent giggles of his fucked-up situation thankfully screaming through his head.

“Hey buddy, you drowning your sorrows over there or do you wanna come back to my place?” some guy leered at him from across the sticky bar. He was about ten years too old and short by just as many teeth. He was wasted, but the kind of wasted that accompanied not being sober a day in months, stale, sad and bloodshot.

When Dean ignored him, only wanting to feel the burn of the liquor rather than yet another one night stand, the guy grew angry.

“So what, am I not good enough for you pretty boy?” he jabbed at him, each word coming with a step too close towards him. “Don’t believe I can show ya a good time?”

It was when his gnarled and dirty hands found their way to Deans thighs that made him lose it. He exploded with rage, the 2 am tiredness, spirits, and adrenaline giving him the energy to fling the guy to the ground before punching him round the face. The sleaze managed to get a boot into Dean’s eye but that was about it throughout the minutes Dean piled all the built-up frustrations into his onslaught.

It didn’t take long for him to be dragged out the bar by the scruff of his neck but that didn’t stop him from downing his eleventh shot as he was thrown to the curb. As much as the ground was damp and hard, he couldn’t help but lie a moment, appreciating the clear sky. The wound on his eye throbbed deliciously alongside the aches now forming in his ribs and the swelling of his bruised knuckles.

On the tarmac, the picture of trouble, Dean could see exactly why Cas was better off without him. Which is exactly why he didn’t expect what came next.

Stumbling toward the room feeling used up, Dean was chaining the last of his cigs – something to keep his fists from swinging and his mouth from spilling. He felt exceptionally reckless tonight, and all he needed to do was fall down on top of his covers and sleep of the emotion so he could go back to the snarking and sarcasm that was easy.

But the light was on when the shoved his key into the lock of their room, a furious Castiel on the other side of the door. Sam, of course, was sleeping soundly and Castiel’s low and frightening scolding began.

“What the hell Dean? What have you gotten yourself into this time?! You can’t keep doing this!”  

His anger started to fade into concern as he saw the blood dripping from his eyebrow and hands.

“Shit Dean, are you okay?!” the smaller man began fussing over his injuries, inspecting them harshly before pulling him into the bathroom to get the first aid kit. Dean’s brain was lagging on behind him; it was like the couldn’t react to the slightly too much antiseptic poured into his gashes or Castiel’s proximity to him. The tequila had done exactly what he’d wanted it to – numbness.

“You realize you’re an idiot right? I don’t know what has you so angry at the moment but you have to stop picking fights – I know shits been tough since Bela died but you can’t keep self-destructing like this!”

Dean screwed up his nose. “This isn’t about Bela.”

Cas stood still, fixing him with a hard look as he knew sympathy right now would just set the other man off again. “Oh yeah? Then enlighten me, Dean, what’s your fucking problem?” he got closer to him then in his anger, and Dean’s breath caught in his throat, “You think I can watch you tear yourself apart like this? You can’t keep smoking your lungs away or drinking till you can’t see. I know you start swinging when things get too hard for you to handle but all that ever does is mess up your hands and allow you to carry on, not dealing with anything! God Dean, you’re so much better than this why can you see that?”

Dean was at loss for words – he expected to come back, sleep on that damned creaky bed and wipe up the blood stains in the morning like he always did. He expected a questioning from Sam, a look from Cas and a black coffee to go with some greasy food to cure his headache. But Cas really had had enough now.

“I care about you Dean, why don’t you show yourself the same courtesy?”

It was all a bit too much to bear; the fire in Cas’s eyes had his heart racing. Without the cigarettes between his lips, there was nothing between his tongue and the truth – but he couldn’t talk about it. He didn’t want to be hurt and that’s exactly what would happen if he kissed Castiel right now. Even if Dean could look away from Cas, he didn’t want to. Even with his senses dulled by the liquor the all too familiar magnetization toward the man in front of him was returning at a force.

If you asked him, he’d say he didn’t mean to – that he really was trying to resist.

But Dean was tired, and sad. He was so sad and tired that he couldn’t stop himself from melting into the other man, quickly pushing his lips onto the ones he couldn’t stop staring at and had been for months.

And he couldn’t hide his surprise when he felt the hands on his biceps and the mouth under his to be welcoming his kiss.


End file.
